


Hover

by DMichelleWrites



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Married Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-15 16:12:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9243503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DMichelleWrites/pseuds/DMichelleWrites
Summary: Felicity's stricken with appendicitis. While she appreciates a little help post-surgery, Oliver tends to be a bit too attentive. He's somewhat of a hover husband. How does she respond to his overbearing TLC when she's finally back home?





	

_(Collage via 410 "Blood Debts" and 411 "A.W.O.L"_ )

Oliver and Felicity make their descent down to the stairs to her wheelchair. Felicity grips her husband's shoulders tightly, eyes falling shut as he bounds the step with her resting securely in his big, strong arms, although Felicity clearly doesn't share the same sense of relief.

"Be careful, slow down." Felicity insists, voice jangling along with her nerves. "Be careful, careful, careful, _careful_."

Upon the last step, his lips twitch in a soft smile, "Oh, do you want me to be careful?"

"Please enough with Oliver 2.0." She scoffs, mentioning, "Do you really think being cute is going to distract me?"

"Mission accomplished." Oliver's grin grows wider as he fetches her a cozy gray blanket and some water.

Sighing heavily, Felicity rolls her chair towards the kitchen, "You don't have to wait on me hand and foot."

"Oh yes, I do." He declares vehemently, insisting, "Felicity, Honey, you've just had major surgery less than a week ago."

"Oliver." She argues, noting, "A laparoscopic appendectomy hardly qualifies as major surgery. It was a routine procedure."

Her husband counters, "An appendectomy is still considered invasive surgery, and nothing is more important to me right now than your recovery. Now, Dr. Schwartz said to take one tablet per your pain management regimen, but not before eating. So I've made your bubbe's famous Jewish penicillin soup just like you like it."

Felicity surmises, crossing her arms over her chest. "You've been texting with my mother again, haven't you?"

"No..." Oliver chimes, earning him a patent glare over Felicity's glasses. Pursing his lips in consternation, he immediately relents, "Yes."

"Oh my God!" His wife hisses, reminding, "Honey, we talked about this. No texting my mother without my permission. Lord, knows what you two chatty Cathies blather on about."

"Hey!" Her husband snipes, clearly affronted, "I needed to get the recipe from somewhere. Please eat your soup."

"I'd rather have a Big Belly Buster with a small strawberry shake." Felicity grumbles under her breath.

"Honey, you know what Dr. Schwartz recommended."

Yes, a bland diet of mainly liquids and other healthy foods, such as soups and kale. But damn, her belly wants it wants. Ugh, just three more days of the boring stuff then she could get back to consuming some real foods with actual subsistence, flavor, and more.

"Oliver, that was right after my surgery. I should be fine by now."

He reprimands adamantly, sounding much more like her parent than her husband, "Felicity..."

Okay, so he's putting his foot down. See, if that will stop her. Although, to be fair that goddamned inflamed appendix almost caused her more trouble than it was worth. Why does one even need such a useless organ?

* * *

_**Four Days Ago  
**_

Felicity awoke much later than usual. Her vision took awhile to acclimate to the mid-morning light without her glasses. Her eyes were heavy and laden with crusty remnants of sleep, though she managed to glance at the clock. 10:05AM burned in bright red text, much to her chagrin. Why hadn't her alarm gone off at six like always? At the very least, why hadn't Oliver woken her after his typical five mile jog? Felicity's gaze flitted to Oliver's side of the bed, feeling nothing but cold, empty sheets. God, it was absolutely stifling in here? What had her usually hot blooded husband turned the heater up to full blast? Her alabaster skin was coated in a sheen of profuse sweat, so she traipsed over to their master bathroom.

However as soon as Felicity reached the adjacent door, a sharp shooting pain jolted through her. It initially emanated right around her bellybutton. Maybe she needed new pajama pants? Thankfully, the pain eventually subsided. Felicity's bare feet padded the floor as she finally entered the bathroom. Upon one long look in the mirror, Felicity though she looked like Hell. Her blonde locks were crumpled into a large bird's nest. Dark visible bags were clearly evident under those baby blues. Granted, she was naturally white, but her skin was quite the contrast to how it usually appeared. Her skin also seemed clammy, but damn even their typically cool bathroom felt more like an oven.

"Alright." Felicity rationalized, brushing off, "So I have a cold. I'll stay home today."

Was her belly distended? Speaking of, her stomach made its presence known with a loud rumble. Felicity ran to their toilet in time, lurching in front of the white porcelain bowl. She hadn't puked this much since she accidentally ate that pot brownie with nuts in college. Suddenly, Felicity felt a familiar helping hand holding back her hair.

He offered tenderly, "Hey. I gotcha. I gotcha."

Oliver dropped down to his knees behind her while she retched in the toilet thrice more. Her legs felt like Jell-o when she stood up again. She shrugged off her husband's arm as she strolled to the sink. With a subsequent gargle of mouthwash and a squirt of toothpaste, Felicity began to brush in an instant. She noticed Oliver's questioning gaze reflected back at her in the mirror.

His wife warned, narrowing her eyes at him, "Oliver Jonas Queen, I swear if the next question out of your mouth is 'Are you pregnant?' I will..."

"I was going to ask if you think you need to go to the hospital, Felicity."

"No, no." She thought, "It's probably just the stomach flu."

He informed, "You do have a low-grade fever of ninety-nine degrees."

"You actually took my temperature while I was sleeping?" Felicity questioned, shooting him an incredulous look.

Well, that was why they bought an ear thermometer.

"Yes," Oliver admitted, "You think I'm that crazy to wake you up without coffee."

Her grin was toothy and broad, running her fingers through his spiky blonde locks, "Smart man."

Unfortunately, Felicity was in no mood for coffee, and she couldn't believe she actually felt that way for once. Felicity retreated back to the comfort of their bed. She immediately unplugged her precious tech baby from his charger. Keyboard clicks soon sounded off in the quiet room until pain caused her fingertips to falter. It had to merely be the stomach flu or early on-set cramps, indicating Aunt Flo would be visiting a little earlier than expected. Oliver fetched her some dry toast comprised of white bread with nothing on it, and a nice cold ginger ale. That meal managed to stay down where it belonged for awhile at least. As her eyes scoured over Curtis' latest schematics, her stomach churned and gurgled loudly. Immediately, she ran to the bathroom once more. As Felicity would put it, she wouldn't want to eat those delicious caramel fudge bites for awhile. Lunch was a tasteless chicken broth with a side of saltine crackers, though that projectile vomited its way into the garbage can as soon as she swallowed. As night grew colder, her fever escalated to a hotter temperature. She moaned pitifully, grabbing her stomach.

"A hundred and two." Her husband observed after waiting for the telltale beep of their ear thermometer. "Felicity, Honey, I really think I should take you to the hospital."

Just as she was about to protest, pain radiated through the lower right side of her abdomen. Oh, this was definitely not the stomach flu.

"Mmph." Felicity grit, concurring, "Oh, you're damn right, you will."

Oliver sent Dig a quick S.O.S text, and within minutes, the couple heard a van pull up by the curb. Oliver carefully carried Felicity out front. Pain hit her in a crashing wave, much stronger this time while she was in his arms.

She cried, wincing at a sharp pain, "Ah! It hurts so bad."

Eyes widening at the sight before him, Dig advises, "We gotta move guys. That looks like one Helluva case of appendicitis."

That did nothing to quell Felicity's worry, which was evident by the way her nails dug into Oliver's arms.

"John," Oliver rarely called Dig, John, his voice rung with urgency, "We have to move _now_. C'mon. Let's go."

"Thank God, you guys live close to Starling General," Their friend noted.

They were a team of three people with amazing skills off on an awesome superhero adventure every Wednesday night. Injuries were parts of the territory That was why Oliver, Felicity, Dig, and Lyla bought residences near the best hospital in all of Star City. Traffic was light, but in the Queens' minds, Felicity's appendix was a literal ticking time bomb. If it ruptured while on the road, she'd be wracked with a slew of copious diseases and infections.

"Oliver, I'm..." Felicity croaked out, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes

"Shh, Felicity." Oliver shushed in interruption, "You're gonna be fine. Just hold onto me okay."

In retrospect, Oliver knew he was saying that for both his and Felicity's benefits. Driving in the backseat on a vinyl blue padded seat was definitely not recommended by any sane DMV anywhere, but it allowed Felicity to lay down in Oliver's lap comfortably. Well as comfortable as she could be in this moment, considering her current predicament.

Dig informed, driving the car towards the ER section of the lot, "We're here."

Oliver lifted Felicity out of the van as soon as Dig put the vehicle in park. He didn't know if that move was going to help his wife or hurt or her even more so than before. Thankfully, two nurses grabbing some coffee on a break during the graveyard shift saw the Queens in trouble. Dumping their coffee cups, they rushed into the ER with Felicity laying on a gurney. As Oliver trailed alongside his wife, who was rapidly surrounded by a whole team of doctors and nurses, he knew this wasn't like the night after Darhk's ambush. Right now, he wasn't the Green Arrow, looking to avenge the woman whom he loved most, but he was still a very concerned husband.

"Mr. Queen." The head ER doc by the name of Dr. Schwartz acknowledged, "We need you to leave while we prep your wife for surgery."

"Take care of her," He pleaded, desperation shining in his eyes.

"Honey." Felicity called out, murmuring through a mask, "I love you."

"I love you too." With that Oliver was ushered out of the room before the blue doors swung shut, "I'm be right out here, Baby. I promise."

Please don't let that be the last 'I love you' they ever exchange. In actuality, Oliver understood that this was a routine procedure. Appendectomies occurred every single day in this very hospital, but this patient wasn't just anybody. She was his wife, damn it. Granted, the wait was nothing compared to the ER trip after Darhk's Ghosts hit Felicity with a barrage of bullets, yet it was still thirty minutes too long for Oliver's liking. Time seemed to drag on a snail's pace. All he kept hearing was annoyingly constant tick tock from the clock above his head. It was then, he decided to do something he hadn't done in ages- pray. Truthfully, in recent years, he had spent more time in a synagogue than a church, but whatever worked, right? Whatever helped to ease his mind. He folded his hands together, looking down at his sneakers. He silently asked God, if there was such a person up there, to not take his wife.

"Don't you dare, God." He thought to himself, "Don't you dare."

Not five minutes later, did an ER doc in a mask with familiar auburn hair emerge from those wretched blue doors.

Pulling down her surgical mask, Dr Schwartz assured, "Mr. Queen, I know it's been a scary night for you both, but Mrs. Queen's surgery went wonderfully. You got her here just in time, and we managed to a laparoscopic surgery before it even had the chance to rupture. She's being wheeled into recovery now. She'll be a little groggy from the anesthesia, and she'll also be a bit sore for a few days. Other than that she should be just fine."

"Thank you, Dr. Schwartz."

Relief was like a wrecking ball to a wall of nerves that encased his heart. The door creaked open as he walked into Felicity's recovery room. Looking at his sleeping wife, who was hooked up to an IV drip and a heart monitor, his notion was proved to be true yet again. She was stronger than all of Team Arrow combined. The beep from the monitor broke the silence until Oliver unzipped a baggie. Careful not disturb her, he initially slipped on a ring that was once his mother's followed by her wedding band. He knew she didn't like to be without them, and a nurse in the ER took them off her. How dare she? However, he understood it was protocol. After all, who wanted blood and other fluids staining symbols of their love, marriage, and partnership. It didn't have to be a three karat Princess cut diamond ring set in platinum with a matching infinity band lined with smaller diamonds. It could a ring made out of an arrowhead, and neither of them would ever want it be tainted. His fingers burrowed into hers until he found the right fit. He soaked in every feature of hers- Felicity's sweaty blonde locks, her pale skin now with a healthier slight pinkish tint, her nude lips and the way her chest jostled with air. Beeps and her even breathing were the only noises accompanying Oliver for a short while. That was until Felicity took a sharper breath, and her eyes fluttered open.

Voice laden with exhaustion, her pitch higher than normal, she asked, "Mmm... How long have you been sitting there?"

"If I had it my way, not long enough." His lips tilt in soft smile, eyeing her carefully. "How are you feeling?"

"Better now that you're by my side."

"No place I'd rather be. Felicity, I..."

"Shh... I won't say 'thank you' or 'I'm sorry' if you don't say 'I told you so, Felicity'."

He huffed out a laugh in agreement, "Okay."

"Good, but you forgot something."

"What?"

Pointing to her mouth, Felicity requested, "Kiss me and say it again"

Oliver dutifully pressed a chaste, tender kiss upon his wife's lips.

"I love you."

"I love you too, but I wasn't talking about that."

"For better for worse..." He recited.

"For as long as you and I get to be together." She finished.

Oliver reminded, "Forever works."

"Yeah, it does." Felicity agreed, biting her lip, "You know I think I wanna go to Bali a third time. Wanna come with me?"

Her husband reminded, "I'd go anywhere with you, but let's wait until you fully recover, huh?"

"Details, Queen." His wife rasped, "Think big picture."

Shaking his head in amusement, he recommended, "Get some rest, Honey."

Despite Felicity's minor scare, it was definitely a wake up call. She needed to be taken care of. Thank goodness, they caught it in time before something even worse happened, but Oliver understood his wife better than any person on this entire Earth- albeit provided she wasn't talking tech or academics. She had a bad habit of prioritizing other people's problems above her own. He should've brought her to the hospital the moment he noticed her stomach pains. At the very least, he could take the week off from work. Quentin and Thea could surely handle things at City Hall because for the next four days, nothing is more important to him than Felicity's recovery.

* * *

  _ **Present Day** _

This is Felicity's second night home from the hospital, and she hopes Oliver would've eased up by now. It's not that she doesn't appreciate Oliver's help. It's simply that she doesn't need so much of it. For instance, Oliver insisted on reusing her old wheelchair, which was completely unnecessary. Sure, she moves a tad bit slower while her body heals up over the next few days. But for God's sake when she mentioned she needed help getting up to go pee, she didn't mean she needed to be carried to the bathroom. She doesn't need to be carried at all. That's mostly Oliver's idea. Felicity never would have thought she would love and hate Oliver all at the same time. He's a fracking annoying, yet sweet hover husband, but this behavior needs to be nipped in the bud A.S.A.P.

"Oliver." Felicity calls forth.

Her husband guesses, his frame filling the doorway, "You need to use the bathroom again?"

"Mmhm," She hums, sighing heavily in exasperation when he goes to carry her.

Misinterpreting that annoyance, he wonders, "Ooh, sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"No." His wife draws out, her smooth palms contrasting his longer stubble, "I think you and I need to have a talk later tonight."

"Ooo-kay." His face crumples in confusion, "What about?"

"Bathroom first, then talk."

He obliges. She's too pissed off to have that conversation right then and then. Felicity reads Wired magazine as a way to relax. Dinner is actually something she gets to chew for a little bit. Polenta over a bed of spinach drenched in what else chicken broth. The sky is pitch black, but clear as day slips into night.

With a box in his arms, Oliver notes, "I know we were totally unpacked."

"Oh, just humor me. Would you?"

"Alright, what am I getting exactly?

Pointing, Felicity directs, "The pink box covered in glitter."

Clearly, Donna's idea. Specks of glitter soon adorn the their green and blue striped comforter.

"This is our past." His wife recalls, pulling out one of their first engagement photos when she was wheelchair bound and paralyzed. Getting straight to the point, she urges, "Oliver, we've been through much worse than my appendix almost bursting. You don't need to worry about me so much."

"Sorry, that goes against my husband job description." Oliver responds, tucking a wavy lock behind her ear, "And you know, I could say the same about you."

She laughs, "I know."

"Yeah, see?"

Her gaze bores into him, "It's not that I don't appreciate the help."

"But?" Her husband adds, sensing what's coming next.

"But I can take care of myself. I always have. Look, I love you, and I'm grateful that you love taking care of me. Honey, it's suffocating me. It's like you're hovering over me every second over the past four days."

He scoffs, clearly offended, "I have not! I was just making sure you were alright."

"I don't need you to hand me toilet paper when I'm in the bathroom. I don't need you literally breathing right over my neck when I'm using my tablet, and I certainly don't need you carrying me around everywhere. Oliver, it's too much, way, way too much."

"Then what do you need from me?"

"First off, for you to know that I'm here. I'm here, and I'm just fine. Secondly, for you to only help when I say so. We clear?"

"Okay, I guess I can do that."

Felicity corrects for him, "You will."

"Yes, Mrs. Queen." He vows, fighting the urge to jokingly salute.

Oliver plops down on his side of the bed, much to Felicity's disappointment.

She prompts, "Hey, I need something."

"Anything." He promises, turning over onto his side, "Just name it."

"I need my pillow." His wife insists with a cute pout.

On that note, Oliver laughs. He and Felicity would never stop worrying about one another. Chucking the glittered box aside, the Queens share a messy, ardent, and quick kiss.The couple spoons in their typical nightly positions before slowly succumbing to sleep. The breeze creeps into a crack from their window left slightly ajar. In this moment, they realize that all they can do is try to worry less. However, at the end of the day, as long as they have each other, they are going to be just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and Kudos are appreciated.  
> Say hey, and please let me know what you think in the comments.  
> Tumblr: [DMichelleWrites](http://dmichellewrites.tumblr.com/)  
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